A Winchester Night before Christmas
by lilyleia78
Summary: A Christmas with Bobby and the wee!chesters.  Bobby focused gen.


"T'was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a single Winchester was being as quiet as a mouse."

"Uncle Bobby!" Sam complained. "That's not how the story goes."

Bobby peeked over the edge of the book to faux scowl at the boy. Sam squirmed around excitably in his brother's lap. Truthfully both boys were a little old for that, but Bobby figured they needed the closeness, what with it being Christmas and their father being absent. Again. And damned if Bobby was going to be another person trying to get those boys to grow up too soon.

"Oh yeah," he growled at the younger boy, "says who?"

"Arthur Clement," Sam answered, gesturing to the book's cover. Too smart for his own good, and Bobby was damn proud of him.

"Yeah, well what's he know? I figure his story…"

"Poem," Sam interrupted.

"Stop correcting, Sammy," Dean said, shoving his brother off of his lap and into the space between himself and Bobby, "it's annoying."

"I figure his _poem_," Bobby growled before the shoving match could turn into a full fledged fight, "is just the story of a night before Christmas. That don't mean it's the only one, right?"

"No," Dean answered immediately, "it doesn't."

Sam thought about it awhile longer before shaking his head. "No, that doesn't make it the only one."

"Right," Bobby said, "so I figure we can tell our own story. Wanna help?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, shifting closer so he could see the words on the page. He turned back to his brother. "Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes, but Bobby knew how little resistance Dean had to Sam's puppy dog eyes so he wasn't surprised when Dean agreed with a put out, "Fine," and scooted over next to his brother. Bobby shifted the book so they could all see it.

"If you idjits are ready? I'll start and we'll take turns with every paragraph."

"Stanza," Sam said. Then he looked up sheepishly, "Sorry, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby nodded an acknowledgement. "Then it's off to bed with you." He silenced their automatic protests by raising his voice. "No arguments. You gotta go to bed so Santa can come."

Dean snorted and Sam's mouth opened in protest but a quick glare from Bobby stopped them both.

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

not a single Winchester was being as quiet as a mouse

Their stocking hats were hung by the chimney with thumb tacks,

In hopes that St Nicholas would fill the things up for the brats."

Sam giggled and then bit his lip, concentrating hard on the next verse.

"The Winchesters (and Uncle Bobby) were nestled all snug on the couch,

While the smells of chili still filled up the house.

And Dean in his t-shirt, and I in my jammies,

Were trying to sleep, and Dean said, 'Just go to bed Sammy."

Dean took over then, trying to look casual, but studying the text just as hard as his brother had.

"When out in the junkyard there arose such a racket,

I sprang from the couch and grabbed up my hatchet.

Away to the backdoor I flew like the Flash,

Tore open the lock to find the source of the crash."

They continued taking turns, changing the famous poem into a life or death struggle to save the junkyard from all manner of unholy terrors. Bobby watched, content, as the boys loosened up and laughed and poked each other through each unlikely verse.

Sam wrapped things up for them all.

"I heard him exclaim, 'ere we drove him out of sight,

'Stay away from the Winchesters, they put up a helluva fight!'"

"Damn right we do," Dean agreed, high-fiveing his little brother and then offering one to Bobby as well.

"Yes, yes," Bobby grumped, "You two saved me and the whole salvage yard from a Christmas nightmare. Now get your butts to bed and leave me in peace."

"Goodnight Uncle Bobby," Sam yelled as he thundered up the stairs.

"Goodnight, Bobby," Dean said, standing slowly to follow his brother. "And thanks, for everything."

"Boy," Bobby said impatiently. "Christmas is about family, and you're mine. Don't go thanking me for that."

Dean's smile was worth every moment spent scrounging to find last minute presents, and every cent he'd overpaid for gas station fruit and candy for their (hat) stockings. "Merry Christmas," Dean said, ambushing Bobby with a brief but fierce hug.

He ran up the stairs before Bobby could even think of returning the gesture. Bobby stared at the hats hung upside down over his chimney and listened to the sounds of Dean and Sam wrestling around - definitely not sleeping - upstairs and smiled to himself. "Merry Christmas," he echoed, and went to fetch some gifts from their hiding place.


End file.
